


How To Train Your Captain

by WolfesPuppies



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: After care, Aftercare, BDSM, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Caning, Dubious Consent, Gags, Hair-pulling, Ignored Safeword, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Punishment, Safeword Use, Teasing, in that nic doesnt know who hes serving, stress positions, sub nic, technically I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:14:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfesPuppies/pseuds/WolfesPuppies
Summary: 1) In which Nic is mouthy, and gets what he deserves.2) in which Wolfe is mouthy, and gets what he needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Maz (thegreatlibraryfangirl) entirely for this one. Her mouthy sub Nic in her sadism prompt fill inspired this one.
> 
> Hey look at that, I didn't use an Elbow song for the title!

Punishment for misbehaviour isn't normally a part of their scenes, but occasionally, just occasionally, one of them will push that little bit too hard, and the other will be in just the right mood to oblige.

Wolfe snaps the crop against Santi's thigh once, twice, thrice, punctuating each strike with a word. "Mind. Your. Manners." Santi takes the blows with a grin. He's sat on a chair, hands holding each other behind his back, and he's supposed to be sucking Wolfe off, but is using his mouth in other ways instead.

"Is that all you've got?"

"You are asking for it tonight, Captain." Wolfe warns, tempted to take the crop to him again but choosing instead to take a handful of hair at the back of Santi's head and direct him back to the task at hand. Santi lasts all of thirty seconds before pulling off with a pop and another grin.

"I was just saying-" This time Wolfe cuts him off with a slap, but even that doesn't knock the grin from Santi's face.

"I know what you were saying, and I don't want to hear it." Wolfe growls. He's starting to get frustrated at Santi, both his mouthing off and the fact that Wolfe's cock has been upsettingly hard for far too long now, and Santi is meant to be helping, not hindering. "I'd gag you, but I have a better use for your mouth." Wolfe hints, and thankfully Santi gets it. This time he sets to work with a will, doing something with his tongue that almost has Wolfe's knees buckling, humming deep in his chest to send vibrations running through Wolfe's cock. Wolfe is starting to regret choosing to stand for this, when Santi suddenly pulls away again, and Wolfe groans at the loss of simulation before focusing his attention on the man grinning up at him.

"We had an agreement, after all." This time Wolfe does crop him again, three more on Santi's inner thigh this time.

"You have one more chance." he growls. "Get to work."

"Is that a threat, Scholar?"

Wolfe considers his next options carefully. He won't win a physical fight against Santi, and the captain won't follow a direct order, not in the mood he's in, but - ah, yes. That will work. Wolfe pulls Santi up by the chin into a searing kiss and slowly starts pushing him backwards to the wall. Wolfe waits a few seconds for Santi to get into it before pulling away suddenly and pushing Santi further back into the wall.

"Sit, Captain."

It takes a few moments, but Wolfe thoroughly enjoys the changing expression on Santi's face as he realises first what Wolfe means, and then exactly how much trouble he's in. Santi bends his knees until he's in a wall sit, form as perfect as it can be. They've done this once before, after seeing another soldier do it at The Hive, and Santi had immediately declared it horrible but not a hard limit, and so it had gone on the very short list of actual punishments they have.

"Hands out. Palms up." Wolfe places the crop onto Santi's outstretched hands and then fetches the chair to place it in front of him and takes a seat.

"However long you hold the wall sit for will help determine how many strokes of the cane you get." Santi narrows his eyes at the careful wording. Wolfe had been sure not to specify exactly how that would work, if the strokes would be determined by how long he held it, or if he'd get less for holding it for longer. Santi doesn't need to know that Wolfe already has a number in mind, and will adjust his calculations accordingly.

Santi makes the first minute or so look easy, with only a slight tensing of his leg muscles showing any strain. Wolfe sits and watches in silence, enjoying the sight of his lover's body laid out before him, of Santi's flexing muscles trying to keep position, his breathing getting heavier and heavier as he starts to struggle more.

Wolfe had intended to sit and watch in silence, but just after the four minute mark, Santi gasps out "Talk to me," his arms losing their position a little as he speaks.

"I don't think you're in much of a position to make requests." Wolfe states mildly. "But if a lecture will help get through to you, I suppose I'll agree. But, if I ask a direct question, you must answer."

Santi drops his head in acknowledgment, then whines a little and brings it back up as the new position puts new strain on his arms and chest and the crop wobbles slightly.

"I had plans for tonight, plans that I've had to abandon in order to teach you some proper manners. Maybe next time I'll invite some friends over to help, or maybe we can go to The Hive to do it. You never did finish me off, I'll get some help with that too, you clearly need more practice at it. Chain you down, gag you with a ring so you can't close your mouth, let people queue up for a go. Or maybe it'll be the glory hole, so people won't know it's the great Captain Santi they're fucking, you'll just be another hole to use."

Santi whimpers, but Wolfe isn't sure if it's the position wearing on him, or his newly hard cock.

"Look at that, getting hard at the thought of being used like that. Maybe we should do that, what do you think?"

"Please." Santi whines, and Wolfe grins. "That's a plan then," and then, when he sees Santi has reached the seven minute mark, "You know you can drop any time you like. But the longer you last the less strokes you'll get."

Normally the threat of a lighter caning would have Santi dropping right then, but Wolfe suspects Santi has guessed it won't be an easy one anyway, and so he struggles on, breathing now more heavy pants than anything, muscles flexing rhythmically to hold the position. Santi lasts another three minutes, dropping to his knees just after the ten minute mark, the crop rolling away towards Wolfe as Santi falls onto unsteady arms. Wolfe lets him stay there for a few seconds, head hanging low between shaky arms until his breathing slows down again.

"Bring the crop to me."

Santi looks like he's considering getting to his feet to walk over, but eventually decides on crawling, sending a jolt through Wolfe at the sight of his lover on his hands and knees, and then again when Santi kneels at his feet and presents him with the crop. Wolfe rewards him with a hand in his hair, pulling a little too hard for it to be entirely pleasurable.

"Well now, I think you're in a much more agreeable mood after that. Will you accept your punishment?"

"Yes, Scholar." Santi's tone is more reserved than it's been all night, all the sarcasm bled out to leave deference and submission in its wake.

"I had to reprimand you five times, and I think ten per incident is appropriate, don't you?" Wolfe waits for Santi to answer, bringing the crop around to brush down his side when he doesn't in warning.

"Yes, Scholar."

"But, you held the wall sit for an impressively long time, and you get two strokes off per minute, so that leaves you with thirty to take."

"Thank you for your mercy, Scholar." This time Santi doesn't need reminding to answer, and he lifts his head a little to look at Wolfe. There's a glint of what could be pride in his eyes, and Wolfe can't help but drop character for just a second, laughing at his love being proud of his own endurance, which only seems to encourage Santi, who grins a little.

Wolfe pulls himself together and drops back into character as quickly as he came out of it. "Get into position. Hands against the wall, leaning out, legs apart."

"Yes Scholar." Santi stands this time to walk back over to the wall, and Wolfe is pleased to see his legs are a little more steady now. Wolfe stands as well, and fetches the cane from where he'd laid it on the table at the very start of the night. Walking back over to Santi, he runs a hand down the other man's spine, revelling in the muscles he can feel bunching and relaxing beneath the smooth skin.

"You will count, and you will not move your hands. Losing your count, or moving your hands, will earn you one more. Do you understand?"

"Yes Scholar."

This is perhaps the harshest thing Wolfe will do tonight. 30 strokes of the cane is nothing, Santi has taken a lot more and begged for it to continue, but he'd been allowed to lose himself in the sensation, to float with the pain and the feeling. By ordering him to keep the count, and to focus on not moving his hands, Wolfe is ensuring his mind will stay focused, and Santi will feel every inch of every blow.

Wolfe doesn't speak again before he lands the first, a neat strike right on the meat of Santi's backside. The captain hisses slightly, and starts the count. "One."

By the time he's half-way though, Santi is gasping with each stroke, head hanging low as he strives to obey his orders, neat red welts beginning to rise on his backside. He falters and loses the count at twenty two, and then again at twenty four, and then his hands come away from the wall at twenty five and twenty nine.

Wolfe delivers the last blow, waits for Santi to deliver the count, and then runs his hand across the red lines. "Don't move, Captain. How many more do you have?"

Santi is silent for a second before saying hesitantly "Four, Scholar?"

"Very good. You will thank me for each one, for taking the time to teach you better manners. Understand?"

"Yes, Scholar."

These four strikes are harder than the previous thirty, and Santi almost sobs out the final "Four, thank you Scholar!"

Wolfe gives him a second to collect himself, a hand on Santi's back, and then goes to sit on the chair again. "Come to me." Santi's head drops between his still outstretched arms, and then he turns and walks the few metres over to Wolfe, dropping to his knees when he gets there, hesitating for half a second and then dropping further to press his forehead to the floor in between Wolfe's feet.

Wolfe's sudden intake of breath is entirely involuntary at the sight of such total submission in front of him, his beautiful soldier, all long lines and taut muscles bent in deference to him, and then the red lines of his punishment getting brighter every second it seems. He takes a second to appreciate the view, and then another to give it the focus it truly deserves, before nudging Santi with his foot to tell him to come up to his knees. He does, wincing as his newly reddened ass touches his heels. His posture is still perfect until Wolfe says

"You're forgiven, Nic," and then he slumps to the side, body sagging as all the tension leaves at once.

"You're an ass, Chris." Santi moans.

"It's that kind of talk that got you into this mess." Wolfe says mildly.

"Mercy, mercy." Santi replies, only slightly sarcastically, slightly slurred as the adrenaline leaves pain behind in its wake. Wolfe shakes his head a little and offers Santi his hand, leading him to the bedroom and laying him down on the bed.

"I'll get you some water."

"No, stay." Santi gropes in the air for Wolfe's hand, pressing it to his cheek when he finds it. "Don't need water, need you." his words are becoming more and more indistinct.

"Alright." Wolfe relents, and sits on the bed next to his love. "Stay awake long enough for me to put something on those marks?"

"Mmm." Santi agrees in theory, and then raises his head slightly.

"It's still your turn to do the dishes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wolfe is mouthy, and gets what he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I'm not meant to be writing kink. Ah well. Enjoy!

The lives of a Scholar and a High Garda Captain involve more paperwork than Niccolo Santi and Christopher Wolfe care for. They try and make it as bearable as possible, and so a night in late summer finds them sat at the table in their little house, Santi working on logistics for his upcoming mission and Wolfe on a budget report for his most recent creation. Or at least, that's what Wolfe is _meant_ to be doing. Instead, he's commenting on the secondary report made by one of his assistants and is fairly tearing the poor boys work apart. Santi endures the comments for as long as he can bear before he finally puts his stylus down sharply.

"Do you want me to gag you?" he threatens, only mostly joking, and is surprised when Wolfe stops in the middle of his sentence, mouth still slightly open.

"_Do_ you want me to gag you?" Santi says it slower and more deliberately this time. Wolfe closes his mouth but doesn’t otherwise respond. A plan starts to formulate in Santi’s mind. “Let’s see if you can control yourself. Stay quiet for ten minutes and let me finish these plans, and we’ll have some fun.”

“If I can’t?”

“You’ll find out, won’t you.” Santi knows it’s the right thing to say when Wolfe flushes and tries to hide it with a smirk.

Wolfe lasts all of three minutes before starting to critique the report again – the assistant hadn’t been thorough enough in his budgeting apparently, and Santi sighs before standing without a word and going into their bedroom. They only have a few gags, and it doesn’t take long for him to decide on the one he wants to use today. The muzzle is his, Wolfe doesn’t like the ring all that much, and the ball would lead to too much drool. The tongue plate is the perfect one, comfortable enough to wear for a while, and it suits Wolfe so very much. Santi picks it up and walks back into the living room, going behind Wolfe, still sat where he was, and dropping a kiss onto the top of his head.

“I did warn you. Open your mouth, dear Scholar.” Wolfe does as he’s told, and Santi inserts the gag and buckles it, making sure the plate is straight and holding his tongue down, and none of Wolfe’s hair is caught in the straps. Done, Santi leans down and palms Wolfe through the loose trousers he’s wearing, unsurprised to find him half hard.

“Let me finish this report, and I’ll do something about that.” Santi says as he stands suddenly, and Wolfe whines at the sudden loss of contact. “Be good, Scholar.”

The next few minutes are the most peaceful of the night, the quiet only broken by the sound of soft scratching of stylus on paper and the whisper of turning pages, the gentle sound of Wolfe mouthing on his gag. Santi senses more than sees his hands reaching up to touch the straps.

“If you touch it, I’ll lock it on.” He warns mildly, and is gratified to see Wolfe drop his hands and pick up his stylus once more.

A few more minutes pass, and Wolfe’s hands start to move again.

“Scholar.” Santi’s tone is harsher this time, but it takes a second for Wolfe to obey. “Is it hurting?”

Wolfe shakes his head, smiling the best he can around the gag.

“So you are just testing my patience.”

That gets another beautiful flush, and Wolfe shifts a little in his chair, but that doesn’t stop him from almost unconsciously reaching up to his gag. Santi sighs deeply, glad he’d had the foresight to get a small lock from the bedroom and stands to walk behind Wolfe again. He’s not gentle about grabbing a handful of hair to push Wolfe’s head forward to get at the buckle, and the whine he gets in response goes straight to his cock. The lock clicks shut, and some of the tension Santi hadn’t even noticed was there drains from Wolfe’s shoulders.

“In ten minutes, you will go into the bedroom, strip, put the straps on the bed, lay out the cuffs, and stand by the bed at attention to wait for me. Do you understand?”

Wolfe nods.

“Good.”

The next ten minutes are quiet and filled with promise, and Santi is quietly thrilled when, as ordered, Wolfe lays down his stylus, closes his books and goes into the bedroom. Santi clears his own things away and wait until he hears the movement stop in the bedroom, and then waits a few more minutes before collecting some things from the kitchen. Entering the bedroom, he’s pleased to see Wolfe has followed his orders to the letter, even to the point of not wiping away the thin line of drool coming from his mouth.

“You can be good for me.” Santi lays the tray down on the bedside table, then uses a finger to redirect Wolfe’s gaze away from it and back in front of him. “Eyes front, Scholar.” Santi picks up the cuffs one by one and methodically buckles them on, wrists, biceps, thighs, ankles, and then when he’s done, stands and fetches one last thing from their toy chest, a long piece of black silk. “I’m going to blindfold you, and then I’m going to take the gag out. I don’t want to hear a word from you unless I ask a direct question.” Santi doesn’t wait for a response before doing exactly that, tying the blindfold carefully before working the gag out, letting Wolfe move his jaw around to work out the kinks before ordering him to lay down on the bed and attaching the cuffs to the straps, stretching Wolfe out until he’s spread eagled.

“Comfortable?” he enquires.

“Yes Captain.”

“Good.” Santi settles himself on the bed to the side of Wolfe. “We’re going to play a game. I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to guess what I’m using to touch you. A right answer will give you points, a wrong one will take them away. Once you get to ten, I’ll help you with this.” On that last sentence, Santi grabs Wolfe’s cock and gives it a gentle squeeze, smirking a little as Wolfe’s hips jolt up into the touch.

“I’m allowed to talk now then?” It seems like an innocent question, but the sarcasm is clear in Wolfe’s tone, and Santi slaps him on the inner thigh, hard. The yelp he gets in response is very satisfying.

“Mouthing off will get you punished. Let’s begin.”

**

Wolfe doesn’t know what to expect, lay there in the dark, limbs stretched out and the sting of the slap to his thigh still throbbing, and the soft touch of a feather has him jolting as much as he can as it traces a line down his chest and around one nipple.

“Feather.”

“Very good.”

The next touch is similar, and it takes a long line draw up the sole of Wolfe’s foot for him to identify it, sending his leg into involuntary spasms as it tickles down the arch.

“Paintbrush.”

The brush continues on its way up Wolfe’s leg up to his thigh. The darkness amplifies every touch, every sensation, every sound, until all he can focus on is Santi’s quiet breathing, the soft brush of fibres against his skin, where the sensation suddenly changes, a wet stripe along his inner thigh, right along where Santi had slapped him, just far down enough to miss where he really wants to be touched.

“Your tongue, Captain. This is too easy.” Wolfe can’t help himself, and immediately regrets his decision when he gets a slap to the other thigh.

“Let’s make it a little harder then. If you twitch, you lose a point.” With that, Santi draws the brush up Wolfe’s inner thigh, and try as he might, he cannot stop himself from trying to close his legs. Wolfe can almost see Santi’s self-satisfied smile in his mind’s eye.

“You were doing so well.”

“Fuck you.” Wolfe says almost reflexively, jerking again as the brush moves across his groin, so close yet so far from his aching cock.

“I believe that counts as mouthing off, Scholar.” Wolfe hears Santi muse, before the sudden shock of ice against his nipple chases thought away. Wolfe manages to contain himself, but only just, pushing his back into the bed to escape the sensation.

“I-ice, Captain.”

“Good.” The cube is taken away, and there is blessed relief for a second before something pinches his nipple for a second, the pain amplified by the cold.

“Fuck! Your fingers.”

“Good. Also, you’re back down to two points.” Wolfe doesn’t even attempt to stop the whine that escapes him at that, or at feeling Santi move from sitting next to him to straddling his legs.

The next touch is hard and cold, and it only takes a second for Wolfe to identify it as a stylus, too hard to be ticklish and too familiar to surprise him. The feather is back next, and Wolfe manages to stop himself from moving just in time, and it’s worth it for the praise he gets in Santi’s velvet voice. The world narrows to the weight of Santi on his legs, the cuffs holding him still, the feel of the fabric covering his eyes and all he has to do, all he _can_ do is lie there and follow his orders, naming every item used on him, every jerk against the cuffs and responding slap or pinch or bite the perfect pressure/release of everything that’s been building up for days of trying to keep a handle on his assistants and his research and the budget and the deadline.

The implements Santi is using have started to reappear, and Wolfe’s brain is starting to come back online, the very last thing he wants, so he uses his returning brain power to work how best to get back to that state of just following orders.

“Touch me, Nic, please.” He gasps, and for a second he thinks he’s failed as Santi’s weight shifts to one side but then there’s a sudden shock of ice on his cock and his brain whites out again, only hearing Santi in the distance as he says “You were doing so well, Scholar.” Wolfe can feel his cock softening and shifts his hips in an attempt to get away from it and only gets pinned down with a firm hand for his troubles before the ice is taken away and replaced by the wet heat of Santi’s mouth and the sudden change is almost too much and he’s hard again in an instant.

“Please.” Wolfe half sobs, bucking against the straps and the hand and Santi is all around him, holding him down, taking him down to the very base elements of his soul, and then Santi sits back up and Wolfe whines at the loss of the heat only for it to be replaced a second later by Santi’s hand, the pressure perfect, and it takes a second for the sounds of Santi getting himself off at the same time to filter through to Wolfe, and by then he’s only seconds away from coming himself, and when he does he’s not sure if it’s his or Santi’s that he feels on his chest and it’s _perfect._

Wolfe comes back to himself just as Santi is tipping his head to one side to undo the blindfold. The cuffs are still on but the straps have been undone, and there’s no mess on his stomach. He blinks once or twice in the light, but it’s dim enough that it doesn’t take too long for his eyes to adjust again, and he turns his head to smile at Santi.

“Hi.”

“Welcome back.” Santi’s answering smile is beautiful, and Wolfe is overcome with how much he loves the man in front of him.

“I love you.” He says, fervently and earnestly.

“I love you too.” Santi settles on the bed next to him and gathers Wolfe in his arms, both of them ignoring the cuffs still attached to his limbs. “What do you need?”

“Nothing. Just you.”

“I can do that.”

They lie like that for a while, Santi stroking Wolfe’s hair every now and again, and Wolfe’s mind is quiet for the first time in what feels like days.

“What was that about?” Santi asks quietly after a while, shifting to sit up so he can start unbuckling the cuffs. Wolfe lets him as he thinks about what to say.

“I was too much in my own head, but I didn’t know what I wanted. You always know what I need.”

“Better now?”

“Better now.” Wolfe confirms.

“Maybe we should do paperwork together more often if it leads to this.”

“We’d never get anything done, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Maybe so.”

The last cuff undone and placed to one side, Wolfe leans back against Santi’s chest again. He’s asleep in minutes, the last thing he feels a soft kiss to the top of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://fancysteel.com/collections/fancy-leather/products/tongue-gag) is the gag Santi uses on Wolfe. NSFW, obviously.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wolfe carries out his threats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will address some of the tags and content in the end notes, in case anyone wants to know before they read so they know what they're going into.
> 
> As ever, not edited in the slighest.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Chris."

"Hmm?"

"You remember the other week, when we were...arguing about the dishes?"

Wolfe does remember, vividly. The welts on Nic's backside are mostly gone, but some persist.

"Yes."

"You said some things."

"I did." Wolfe has an idea of where this is going, but is enjoying the look on Nic's face far too much to ruin it, and it's not often his love is reticent about asking for something.

Nic takes a second to collect his thoughts and his courage. "I'd like to do it."

Wolfe raises an eyebrow. "Do what? Specifics, Captain." He sees a little shiver pass through Nic at the use of his rank. It changes the conversation from theory into something more tangible, and the order is enough to unstick Nic's tongue.

"Put me on my knees, on display. Make me suck people off, whoever you choose. Whatever you choose. I am at your mercy, Scholar."

Wolfe has been sitting at the kitchen table, facing Nic leaning against the counter, but now Wolfe gets up and takes a few quick steps to crowd Nic against the counter, pinning his hands and staring into his eyes. Nic is by far the stronger, but lets Wolfe keep him there, and that sends a rush of lust straight to Wolfe's groin.

"My mercy? I don't think you'll find much of that. I think my soldier needs some training, some discipline."

"Yes Scholar." Wolfe can feel Nic against his thigh, and releases one of his hands to reach into Nic's trousers. He's rewarded with the beautiful sight of Nic leaning his head back at the touch, the long line of his neck revealed.

"But not tonight." Wolfe steps back quickly, and Nic groans deep in his chest. "I have work to do, and you have an early morning."

Nic groans again, but this time it's accepting the truth rather than in frustration. "I hate drill parades."

* * *

It's another two weeks before they both have a free enough schedule to make their plans happen. Nic arrives home from the barracks first, followed by Wolfe not half an hour later, who affects a casual air.

"Hello love." He kisses Nic briefly before dropping onto the sofa heavily. "Today was awful."

"Oh?" Wolfe detects a note of disappointment in Nic's voice, and sneaks a look at his face.

"Nothing that can't be solved by a night with my favourite captain." Wolfe enjoys the look of relief that spreads across Nic's face, followed by anticipation.

"I'll make some dinner." Nic offers, moving into the kitchen to, Wolfe suspects, hide a quickly growing erection. When dinner is done and the dishes are cleared - no arguments this time - Nic approaches Wolfe where he's sat at the table, and drops to his knees.

"I am yours, Scholar."

"Good. Stay there, whilst I decide what’s to be done with you." With that, Wolfe stands and sweeps into the bedroom. He's already sorted what he needs and put it into a pack whilst Nic was cooking, but he doesn't need to know that, and Wolfe knows the wait will only increase Nic's expectation, and being forced to wait on his knees in another room entirely is exactly the thing to set the tone for the night. With that in mind, Wolfe takes a little longer than he normally would to change outfits - slightly tighter trousers, a slightly looser shirt, and collect the pack.

Wolfe walks back into the living room to see Nic still obediently on his knees with his head bowed, and Wolfe allows himself a small smile and a moment to appreciate the sight. Nic is half in shadow, half in the fading sunlight, and the golden light highlights his face beautifully.

"Come, Captain, we haven't all day, and you have much to learn."

The ride to The Hive is short and quiet, and when they stop, Nic gets out first before offering a hand to Wolfe to help him down.

"You're being very good, Captain." Wolfe praises in a voice low enough that no one else can hear, but it's enough to send a beautiful red flush through Nic's cheeks. "But don't think that's going to save you." Nic follows Wolfe into the crowded Hive, then downstairs to the less packed, but much louder, dungeon where they've spent so many good nights. Nic doesn't know that Wolfe has already booked a room for the night, and made sure a certain chair in the middle of the floor has been reserved for them, and Nic looks appropriately surprised when Wolfe bypasses the main check in and heads straight to the rooms in the back. Wolfe holds the door open for Nic, and closes it firmly behind them, not wasting time as soon as it clicks shut.

"Strip. You may keep your underwear if you wish, a reward for being so well-behaved."

Nic does as he's told, hesitating slightly before deciding to keep his underwear on. He stands silent and obedient, wrists crossed behind his back as he watches Wolfe put the pack on the bed and start to remove things, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. The first that comes is a tangle of leather and buckles and rings, closely followed by a long thin cane – the same one they’d used the other week. Then comes a pair of cuffs, a gag, and, finally, a leather hood. Wolfe turns a little as he hears Nic’s quiet intake of breath when he sees the last item, but is satisfied when he doesn’t make another sound.

“I intend to lead you out there blind and bound, on display for all to see.” It’s framed as a statement, but Wolfe means it as a question, and Nic takes it as such, swallowing once before nodding. Wolfe doesn’t hesitate before crossing the room and slapping him, just hard enough to chastise.

“Unless you’re gagged, I expect verbal responses Captain, understand?”

“Yes Scholar. I apologise, Scholar.” Nic bows his head in submission, and Wolfe smiles.

“Good.” Wolfe turns back to the bed to pick up the harness and starts to buckle it around Nic’s chest, before cuffing his hands in front of him. He goes to his knees gracefully with a light push on his shoulder, and Wolfe picks up the hood.

“Last thing.” It’s a warning, and a last chance to back out, but Nic nods.

“Please, Scholar.”

“Vey good Captain.” Wolfe praises. It’s a simple thing, only covering the top half of Nic’s face, coming down to just under his nose and lacing at the back. Wolfe takes his time lacing it shut, making sure each line is straight, and Nic is breathing heavily by the time he ties the laces in a neat bow, more than half hard under his boxers.

“Can you hear me?”

Nic nods first before remembering himself. “Yes Scholar.”

“Up you get.”

Wolfe keeps a hand on Nic’s cuffs and the other on his shoulder until he’s on his feet, knowing how disorientating the hood can be. He hates it personally, but Nic loves it, asks for it occasionally when his duties get too much to bear and he needs to shut off from the world.

Wolfe gathers the cane and the gag before tugging lightly on the chain between the cuffs. “Come on.”

The walk to the chair reserved for them in the centre of the room isn’t a long one, but it’s more than enough time for Nic to gain a large handful of admirers, none of whom are quiet about it. That’s useful, it gives Wolfe an idea of who might participate in what he has planned for the night.

Nic goes gracefully to his knees when pressed, and a short chain attaches his cuffs to a ring on the floor. He’s quiet, breathing steadily under the hood, and his obedience is beautiful. Wolfe settles himself in the armchair, cane across his lap and gag within easy reach, and makes eye contact with a few of the particularly vocal admirers. It’s not long before four men are gathered in front of him, and Nic has no idea they’re there.

“My Captain requires a lesson in cock sucking.” Wolfe takes the cane and places the end of it under Nic’s chin, using it to tilt his head up slightly. Nic swallows audibly at the touch and the words. “if you feel his teeth, let me know. He should know better, but you know what these soldier types are like.”

“Incorrigible.” One of the men agrees, a tall muscled man Wolfe vaguely remembers seeing in the Reading Room. “Can we slap him, if he misbehaves?”

Wolfe pretends to consider, as though the idea doesn’t send a rush of blood south. “You may.”

It’s an easy way for Nic to control the night. He’s more than talented enough to have every man in the room and not one of them would feel even a hint of teeth, but if he wants it to be rougher, he can make it so.

“Have at him.” Wolfe removes the cane and uses it to gesture the first man forward. The muscled Scholar – Goren, Wolfe remembers now – steps up and fumbles with the fastenings on his trousers for a second before freeing himself. Nic takes his cock readily, but it’s less than ten seconds later when Goren reels back and slaps Nic hard. His smirk is clear under the hood.

Wolfe raises an eyebrow. “First strike, Captain.” He warns with a light tap to Nic’s chest with the cane. “I do apologise but you see why he needs this.” he tells Goren, who agrees before stepping forward again.

Wolfe sits back in his chair to watch Nic’s cheeks hollow as he tongues the cock in his mouth, hands twitching in their cuffs as he tries to bring them up to join in. Goren is a sympathetic partner, taking his time and not forcing anything, and it's not long before he's coming down Nic's throat. He swallows it all, and takes a second to clean Goren up before the other man steps back.

“He's certainly talented.” Goren is a little out of breath, and Wolfe allows himself a little smile. “Will you need me again?”

“Maybe. Depends on how much the captain needs to learn.” Goren nods, and steps away to allow the next man to take his place in front of Nic, this one a soldier judging by the tattoos, although not from a company Wolfe recognises.

“Always nice to be giving a captain orders, not the other way round.” he grins. Wolfe can't see Nic's eyes, but he does know he's probably got at least one eyebrow raised.

“Careful soldier, I still outrank you.” Nic says, and Wolfe snaps the cane out to catch his chest again, at the same time as the soldier slaps Nic.

“You remember what got you in this position to start with, Captain? Mind your manners. One more strike, and I'll have to gag you.”

“Yes, Scholar. Apologies, Scholar.” Nic ducks his head, appearing contrite but Wolfe knows he's nothing but.

“Get to work.”

Nic obeys, and like with Goren, after the first show of insolence is perfectly content to show off his skills, at least until the other soldier finishes, and Nic scrapes his teeth down the length of his softening cock. The soldier slaps Nic again, harder this time, and Wolfe sighs, but doesn't bother to strike Nic again.

“I'm terribly sorry.” he addresses the soldier. “It would appear he needs some help keeping his teeth to himself.” He stands and retrieves the ring gag, and the soldier steps aside to let Wolfe kneel in front of Nic.

“Open up, dear Captain.” Nic does as he's told and lets Wolfe fit the leather wrapped ring behind his teeth and buckle it behind his head. When he's done, he pushes a small metal ball into Nic's hand, one that will rattle loudly if dropped, and makes significant eye contact with a nearby attendant as he stands. Satisfied, he waves the third man forward.

“Hopefully he'll learn his lesson now.” Bound and blind and gagged as he is, there is very little Nic can do to participate in proceedings now, and the new man, another Scholar, gives Nic time to adjust before setting a fast but steady pace, and pulls back a little before coming, but Nic still manages to swallow it all.

The fourth man is a soldier, and Wolfe takes quiet pleasure in the pattern of ,men using Nic, Scholar, soldier, Scholar, soldier before waving him forward. He's had his hand down his trousers since Wolfe gagged Nic, and the cock he draws out is, whilst not overly thick, fairly long. He doesn't give Nic a chance to adjust, just shoves forward and takes a hold of Nic's head with both hands, pushing his hips forward in a harsh rhythm.

Wolfe may be feigning an air of casualness, but in reality he has a close eye on Nic, especially now he can't express displeasure with his teeth, and so he's moving almost before he realises when the man with his cock currently down Nic's throat doesn't let up when Nic gags twice, and he drops the steel ball. The loud jingle it makes draws the attention of the attendant, who pulls the other man away, but Wolfe has eyes only for Nic, dropping to his knees to unbuckle the gag and pull it from his mouth. There's a commotion behind him, but Wolfe pays it no mind, reaching down to unclip the cuffs from the ring in the floor.

“Nic?”

“I'm okay.” Nic gasps, and coughs once or twice before taking a deep breath. “I'm okay.”

“Do you want to stay here, or go back?”

Nic coughs again before answering. “Back.”

“Come on, up.” Wolfe supports Nic as he gets to unsteady legs – the hood is still on, but Wolfe will take that off when they get back to the room, knowing Nic would prefer the relative safety of the darkness rather than seeing all the subtle and not so subtle glances being sent their way as they make their way out. Wolfe sees the other man being pushed out the door as they walk past, and is quietly satisfied when he's shoved to the floor when he tries to get back in, and then they're in their private room, and Wolfe locks the door behind them before guiding Nic to the bed and sitting him down.

“Taking the hood off.” Wolfe warns quietly, and Nic leans his head forward to allow him to get at the laces. It's the work of moments to pull it off and reveal Nic's sweat-spiked hair, one cheek slightly pink from the repeated slaps. Nic blinks once or twice in the light before he focuses on Wolfe.

“Okay?”

Nic nods. “I'm okay. It just took me by surprise.”

“Nic, I'm sorry, I should-”

“Chris.” Nic cuts him off firmly before he can get any further. “I'm fine. Up until then, I was enjoying myself immensely._”_ He gestures to the still half-hard bulge under his boxers. “It was exactly what I wanted.”

“But still. I should have been more careful.”

“it's not like this is the first time we've done something like this, or the first time one of us has needed to safe word.” Nic says gently. “Don't feel bad.”

The words do little to mollify the hard ball of guilt sitting in Wolfe's throat, but he sighs and accepts them anyway, and pulls Nic down so they're lying side by side on the bed. They lie in silence for a few moments, and Nic hides his head in Wolfe's neck for a moment, the need for physical contact and a slight tremble in his shoulders the only sign that something has gone wrong, before he pulls away slightly.

“What was the rest of your plan?”

Wolfe leans up on one arm, the better to look at Nic's face. He's looking at Wolfe with genuine curiosity, and he has never been able to deny his soldier what he wants.

“Once you'd finished all four, I was going to put the phallus into your gag, and leave you to stew whilst I discussed your performance with them, and then make you have another go at all of them without the gag, before getting you to show what you'd learnt on me.”

Nic swallows audibly and shifts on the bed. Wolfe looks down and sees that the bulge in his underwear is no longer just half-hard, and raises an eyebrow.

“Would you have enjoyed that?”

Nic nods. “Yes. Scholar.” The return to formal titles has Wolfe's cock twitching with renewed interest.

“We can still do part of it?” He makes it very clearly a question, not wanting to force Nic to do anything he doesn't want to.

“I suppose you should make sure I've learnt my lesson.”

“I should.” There's a beat of silence. “On your knees then, Captain.” Wolfe's voice is still soft, but Nic takes it as the order it is and slides off the bed to his knees as Wolfe shuffles to the side of the bed.

“You may use your hands to remove my trousers, but then I want them behind your back.” Wolfe reaches for the imperious tone he was using before, and only half-succeeds, but Nic clearly appreciates it as he has Wolfe's trousers down and his hands behind his back quickly enough. Wolfe folds his own hands behind his back too, resolving to keep them firmly out of the way and to let Nic set the pace. The one he goes for is slow and steady, hollowed cheeks and the gentle bob of his head as he swallows Wolfe down with ease. It doesn't take long for Nic's efforts to take effect, and Wolfe tries to stop his hips thrusting up, which has the entirely undesired effect of Nic pulling off and looking at Wolfe.

“I won't break, Chris. _Use _me.” He almost growls the last two words, and Wolfe can hold himself back no longer. His hands come unlinked and he grabs a handful of Nic's hair, using it to pull the soldier's head back a little.

“You're supposed to be showing me what you've learnt.” Wolfe reminds him. “It's certainly not manners. Get to work.”

Nic does as he's told with alacrity, and this time Wolfe's hand lies heavy on his head, not pushing or pulling, just a steady weight. Nic is more than talented enough to have Wolfe close to coming in minutes, and Wolfe only manages a stuttered attempt at Nic's name as warning before it happens. Nic swallows every drop neatly, and doesn't pull back until Wolfe directs him with the grip on his hair.

“So, Scholar, do I pass?”

“Full marks, Captain.” Wolfe manages when he's got his breath back. “Full marks.”

* * *

(They get a message the next morning informing them that the soldier, a sergeant from Spain, received a lifetime ban from all Library-sanctioned clubs and meetings, and had been returned to Spain for court martial.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wolfe and Nic hold a scene where Nic doesn't know who he's giving a blow job to, but he's agreed to that, and this has been pre-negotiated. At one point he is gagged, but again this has been negotiated.
> 
> One of the men goes too hard and fast, and Nic uses his safe gesture, which the man ignores. He is pulled away and Wolfe removes Nic from the situation, and performs aftercare. Nic then gives Wolfe a blow job. The man is banned from further events as a result of his behaviour.


End file.
